


Flour on your cheeks

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Baking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Soft baking fic
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 3
Kudos: 323





	Flour on your cheeks

“Okay, and, uhh, 180kg of flour... oh shit. Um. Okay, that’s fine. I’ll clean that up later.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s fine, schlatt, everything is fine! Look, most of it made into the bowl. Pass me the eggs? Don’t give me that face, I know how to crack an egg.”

“Just making sure...”

Wilbur cracked the egg on the counter and dug his thumb into it to pry it apart. His thumb was covered in yoke but at least he managed to avoid having the egg splatter on the floor like last time. He was feeling quite accomplished.

“There’s an egg shell in the batter.”

Schlatt restrained himself from informing wilbur that things could, and in the past they have, gone worse.

“Thanks Captain Obvious. I’ll just— there. See? Got it.”

Steve held up a tiny piece of egg shell triumphantly then flicked towards the trashcan. Schlatt watched it miss the trashcan completely, but wilbur returned to the cake batter none the wiser. He sighed and bent down to pick up after his boyfriend, regretting deciding to teach his boyfriend how to cook.

This was supposed to be easy.

“Let’s see... all we need now is some vanilla.”

Schlatt took his eyes off of wilbur in favor of rubbing his temple when wilbur grabbed his phone with his egg covered hand, leaving gross residue on screen. This proved to be a mistake at the sight that greeted him when he looked back up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Will —” He manages to snatch the tiny bottle of vanilla extract from his hands, not before he managed to pour at least half of it into the batter. “Will, christ, how much does the recipe say.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, schlatt was acting like the bottle was a live granade. “Two...three teaspoons?”

“So why,” he shook the bottle in the hand, “would you just pour it in?”

“I want it to be sweet! Like you?” wilbur smiled nervously.

“will,” schlatt might just yank his hair out, “It'll be to strong, we were trying to follow the recipe”

“But it’s vanilla.”

Christ.

“Just... trust me. Now we have to find out how to take out the extra — Oh. That works, I guess.” He watched wilbur dip the corner of a napkin into the batter, it immediately soaked up the vanilla extract on top. Huh.

By the end of it, Schlatt's favourite black jeans were covered in flour but he supposed that was on him. He should’ve known better. They had somehow forgotten to add any baking powder so the cake was far too dense, and the edges were slightly black instead of golden, but at least it weren’t completely burned. Or raw. It tasted a bit too much like flour, but after dousing the whole cake in layers of icing it was hardly noticeable.

Schlatt wouldn't mention it though, sat there on the flour covered counter shoulder to shoulder with wilbur, eating cake, it was comfortable, far to comfortable to ruin with his complaints

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


End file.
